Always
by ZBBZL
Summary: "He's there, he will always be there, and he will always be on her side – whichever side it is." KD. Set through and after "Blye, K."


**Title: Always.  
Timeline: set all through the two-parts eps "Blye, K." And one scene post ep.**

**This is the "first week back to school" present for Jess. Blame her for the cheesiness.  
**

* * *

The instant the words leave her mouth, he knows she's dead serious, and not playing around. Not so long ago, maybe she would have tricked him into doing things the way she wanted by resorting to such methods – _or maybe not_. Flirting with him, going just a bit further down the road to get a reaction from him, dizzying him with the blinking of her lashes, a daring hand or a flick of the tongue was clearly different. It was allowed, of no real, deep harm.

This – this was something else, something more.

_And you're the only person I trust._

The look on her face just says it all. This moment, his partner pleading with him… She still wants things to be on her own terms, still tries to keep control, but finally, _finally_, she's letting it go. She wants to go her own way, but she _also_ wants him to stay there, and do what she _needs_ him to. She wants to know that someone is there – she wants him there.

Ready to catch her _when_ she falls.

But he just knows she's putting her life in his hands there, once again. And it holds much more meaning that reaching for her fingers, clenching on them and holding on them for dear life as the world burns into flames around them both. It means so much more than just trusting him to have her back, and finally acknowledging him as her partner, someone who is gonna stick around for more than just a little while.

Kensi Blye trusts him. Kensi Blye, who trusts no one, who thinks she can do everything on her own – who thinks she _has_ to, trusts _him_. And, in that instant, Deeks thinks that no words have ever sounded better. Nothing compares with the look in her almost teary eyes, the light shaking in her voice, and the sweet, most important sentence she's ever uttered to him.

Others would think that an 'I love you' is the sweetest thing someone could ever hear.

Oh, well. That's kind of what it truly meant, right ?

And, that's why he lets her go. Reluctantly, yes, but he still watches her leave, thanking him and promising she will come back, when he knows she _won't_ until the man who ruined her life is down by her own hands.

He knows it, and he accepts it.

He trusts her to come back to him eventually.

* * *

_Not for a second._

Deeks be damned if he ever, _ever_ doubts his partner.

And, even if she had done it… What does a badge mean, when the one person you care about, the most important relationship in your life, is threatened ?

He knows what it feels like to have so much hatred in your heart you're scared it could explode. So much that you can feel your fists close without you wanting them to, the blood boiling in your veins, your heart pulsing and pounding in your chest. It hurts, and when it happens, you can't think straight. You see red, literally.

It hurts just to remember the feeling, and what did lead him to feel it a couple times in the past.

And, oh how he can understand that someone would burst out, when it's been fifteen years.

He knows it's _not_ a reason to commit a murder. But he can understand. He's a cop, yes, but he's a man; and above all, he's her partner. There's a hierarchy in loyalty, he thinks. The police force or NCIS are a great deal, but his partner, _his Kensi_ ? She means a hell lot more. She means _everything_.

He'd go to the ends of earth for her. He'd steal, and lie, and betray for her. If someone ever dared touch her, harm her, or threaten her, hell, he even reckons – and knows, deep down, that he could _kill_ for her. And, right now, he's not even so sure why it's not legitimately acceptable.

She's Kensi. There's nothing she could quite do that would make him leave her side, alone in this mess. And, if the look in her eyes after he tells her just this is any indication, then she doesn't really want him to – _can't_ have him leave, when he's possibly the only one whose loyalty and faith in her are unwavering.

And that little smile, that quick tugging of her lips upward, it's enough for him. Enough for him, because he knows that even just for a second, he's succeeded in making her feel just a tiny bit better. He's there, he will _always_ be there, and he will always be on _her_ side – whichever side it is.

He knows she knows, now.

And he knows that his Kensi would never sink that low, anyway. Rage and hatred and pain and heartache would never change who she truly is – and Kensi Blye is _not_ a killer.

But, he would be there even if she was.

He would fight for her even if no one else did.

* * *

He's been told many times that he should think before speaking.

He reckons he's pretty good at holding things back, though. Otherwise, there's an _I love you_ on the tip of his tongue that would have come out long ago.

She's a badass, Kensi. Even in dire straits, she finds it in her to blow his mind with everything that she is – touch of death Blye, tough as nail Kensi. Some partner that he has, huh.

_That's my girl._

For the life of him, he can't hide the pride in his voice when it escapes his lips. No matter the stunned looks Eric and Nell send his way and their teasing, Kensi is his girl – _and his girl rocks_. His girl would probably kill him if she heard him say that; hell, she would send him to ICU along with that guy she just took down. But, that's what she is; she's his for the long run, that much he knows. Only death can separate them by now. Kensi can be impossibly stubborn, but so can he – and one thing he's sure of, he will never willingly let go of her.

He will not let some guy sweep her off her feet, or some bad guy go anywhere near her. She doesn't need him to save her, or protect her, because she perfectly knows how to handle herself without anyone's help, but he will anyway. And maybe she's quite not ready yet, but he can wait until she comes around and realize what's been obvious to him for quite some time, now: they belong together.

He thinks the confirmation came when he had to leave her – longest day of his life, honest to God. Leave her alone, lie to her, and wait for the moment when he would have to bear the consequences; see her hurt, and feeling betrayed, doing to her what he promised himself he never would.

He had felt the pang at his heart all day, only reinforced and stronger when she had confronted him, climbing in the backseat of his car, not angry, but definitely not _fine_.

That – that look on her face, it had killed him. And told him what he may have tried to deny, even to himself.

She's his girl.

She's awesome, she's amazing, she's great – Kensi is _perfect_, for him. Her sense of humor sucks, she's feisty and fierce, displays of affection rhyme with punches and jokes with her, but damn, if she and he are not meant to be together, then he doesn't know anything.

* * *

Kensi gags a lot around him – she even threw up a little bit in her mouth, once. She definitely _doesn't_ fall for his charm, or so she says.

Like hell he believes her.

_God, I can't believe you just fell for that. _

That must have been his lamest plan ever. It wasn't even a plan – the plan was to have her at the word _doughnut_, but he had been scared by the look of those at the convenience store. Kensi could eat literally everything, but even she had limits, and, well, he didn't need jelly or cream-filled pastries to win her over, did he ?

Maybe he had thought of buying her Twinkies, just in case. So what ?

In the end, his puppy look and stupid diversion had been enough to have her let him in. And, he thinks with a smile, only he could snoop around uninvited like this.

That's what he's been doing ever since he first came in, forced on her and the team by Hetty, who always seemed to have some master plan in mind that she didn't particularly feel like she had to share with them. Oh, how Kensi had not liked him, back then, that he sure knew. But then, slowly, he had wormed his way in, day after day – with a joke that got him a smile, a candy bar or beers shared on her couch, watching Top Model.

He likes to think he's the only one with whom she does all of this, the fun nights in or out, but also those quiet moments, much more intimate, much more _special_ to him. Those nights when, after a tough day, or after he's done something that she really, _really_ appreciated, Kensi gives him something. Sometimes it's just a tiny little snippet of her childhood, or a genuine smile at whatever he did or say.

And sometimes, it means letting him in when she would love to push anyone else away.

Some days, like today, it meant letting the guard down just enough for him to get in.

He just knows that Kensi could have him whining and crying on the floor, if she really wanted to. She could have slammed the door on his face, making him choke on blood and teeth flying out of his mouth. She could have just not answered his knock, a silent _go away _that he would have never accepted to obey, though.

Good thing is, he knows now that he doesn't have to think so much about his plans. Being creative is overrated, anyway.

* * *

The first time she made him sit through the movie, he whined and fussed and complained.

Secretly, he loves it, but it's so much funnier to annoy her, admire the soft blush on her skin as she does everything to avoid his gaze during _that scene_, mock the welling of her eyes as it nears the end, an end he knows she's praying will change every time she watches. An end that shakes her enough to let him drape an arm around her shoulders and squeeze lightly, bringing her just a bit closer to him.

The second time, he decided that from now on, he would always let her choose what they watched on their movie nights. Because, she _always_ chose Titanic. And, she _always_ let him loop an arm around her or brush a tear from her cheek.

_I'm a detective, I detect._

There really wasn't any other way. And, he loved that she loved this movie – that she hadn't let the memory of the night she went to see it, and the related events, ruin it for her.

He could so easily picture a fifteen year-old Kensi gushing over Leonardo Dicaprio, wishing upon a star to meet a man like him someday who would finally make her feel alive. He could just see it with her every reaction every time they watched the movie together, the squealing, the excitement, the gleam in her eyes, and the way her lips kept moving, silently reciting the dialogue of her favorite parts. He could see it at the way she bit on her lip or nuzzled her face in his shoulder, never wanting to see the moment when Jack sinks in the depths of the icy ocean.

No matter the threat Sam placed upon him if he ever ventured anywhere near his own laptop, he was happy to think he knew his partner enough to know things that people who had met her long before couldn't figure out.

And, one thing is for sure, once this is all over, he will gladly sit through another rewatch.

* * *

It was all her fault, really.

_She_ had landed on top of him, _she_ had been the first thing he saw, waking up in that hospital bed, all smiling and beyond beautiful, looking at him with those gorgeous, happy eyes. _She_ had worn that delicious dress, dozed off to sleep on his shoulder on her couch, been all jealous and possessive over him with all those women they came across.

_Wow, this is usually how the dream sequence starts._

Of course it wasn't _his_ fault if he wanted her, and if she had started visiting him in his dreams. She obviously wanted to drive him crazy, but even without so many efforts on her part, he simply couldn't _not_ be in constant awe of her.

Kensi was gorgeous _and_ sexy, not just one or the other. He admired her, couldn't quite help the fact that his jaw dropped on a daily basis upon seeing her, and, well, he wanted her. Who wouldn't ?

It was even harder not to when she would take off her shirt in front of him, revealing her bare, bruised skin to his hungry eyes. How could she expect him not to let his eyes roam over every visible patch of skin, memorizing and cataloguing every battle scar or beauty spot ? How was he supposed not to look up, getting to see what he had never before ?

But, in a way, this definitely wasn't how he had imagined the scene happening. Yes, she would be taking off those offending garments hiding her delicious body for him to revel in the sight, but she wouldn't be injured and in pain. She wouldn't be struggling with demons of her own.

And maybe, maybe this was better, somehow. Because, here she was, taking her shirt off, to let him check on her injury – _to let him take care of her_. Something that would have never happened months ago, something that he never thought would _ever_ happen, period. And, somehow, letting him do just this meant way much more to him than getting to see her half-naked – oh, how people would be surprised, but he didn't care.

Maybe his dreams were made of discarded clothes and tousled curls and flushed skin, but what he truly, really _hoped_ deep down, was to have her trust him and let him in.

All it took for him to know she did, was her hands catching the hem of her shirt.

* * *

It's silly of him, but, in a way, it makes him feel like she's there.

Well, they did carpool this morning, but still, had he been given the choice, he would have still chosen hers. The car smells just like her, the sweet scent of her shampoo, the molten Twinkies or Oreos stuffed between the seats, the combination all very _Kensi_. The radio is stuck on that ridiculous techno station, and during all the drive from OSP to the address Eric sent to her GPS, he finds himself listening to it, his fingers drumming the rhythm on the steering wheel.

God, he used to hate techno. It still bothers him, but just like anything remotely related to Kensi, he realizes he's grown to love everything that reminds him of her. Those candy bars and coffee with three tons of sugar she eats and drinks, sweet treats that would have anyone become diabetic, when they're just sculpting a great body for her. Her collection of trinkets – God, he almost stumbled to death on that clutter scattered on her living-room floor – and still, he's thinking of helping it grow with some ideas of his own.

He's neat and she lives in a mess. He might be the only cop not eating doughnut after doughnut, and she can't live without her hourly dose of sugar. She loves going out clubbing, dancing or singing along to the music, when he prefers the quiet of the beach at dawn, the soothing sound of the waves taking him someplace else.

They couldn't be more different on paper. And yet, they were so alike, that all those little things just made him love her more. There was no cuter image than Kensi beaming at a Twinkie, the gleam in her eyes and the smile on her lips just making him want to have her, right then and there.

_Who said you could drive my car? I just got it washed.  
_

Oh, how he knows she's lying as a single Twinkie survived, now tucked in his front pocket. Maybe he will give it to her once she's done being an angry little princess. She still laughed at him calling her a damsel in distress, that surely deserves a little something in return.

* * *

He doesn't like this guy. At all.

For a man who is in trouble, this Harris definitely is too cocky. Too demanding, literally asking to get protection before even telling them anything interesting. He even dares giving his conditions, wanting things to be on his own terms.

Scratch that, he _hates_ this guy when he says he will talk, but only to Kensi.

He thinks that this day has already driven him into a corner a hell lot. Having his partner being treated like a suspect, being the one who basically brought her back in so she would be taken into custody, and then, this guy whom he didn't trust and who now wanted to see her… This day sucked. And, it was just about to get worse.

Kensi might not be some damsel in distress, but he just can't be at ease with the idea of this meeting. Oh, how he would have stopped into a desert corner on his way to the park, beating up the guy and then leave him for Kensi to finish him off.

Annoying Nell for being there.

_Just to clarify, if anything happens to Kensi, you're gonna be dealing with me for the rest of your soon-to-be-very-short life._

He means every fucking word. But, mostly, he knows that he's not only saying this because he's some lovesick puppy desperately craving for her attention, and trying to play the hero.

He's in love with her, very simple, very true. But she's above all his partner, and he will always, always have her back. That's his job, and by her side is exactly where he wants to be. And if this guy dares touch her, then it will be his last day on earth, cocky smile or not.

God, how he wants to wipe this out of his stupid face.

With his fist.

Sorry Nell, but right about now, he wishes you weren't fucking there so he could do just that. He's pretty sure the analyst wouldn't lie to Hetty and say the broken nose happened by itself. Like it's damn time to have morals and ethics when one of their own is being threatened.

If anything happens to her, he will never be able to live with the remorse of not having done anything.

If anything ever happens to her, he just doesn't know how he can be expected to live without her, period.

* * *

Kensi never laughs at one of his jokes, she usually just laughs at _him_. His hair, his self-proclaimed charm and success with the ladies, his detective skills… It's all just jokes. Mocking him is her way of showing her affection, he figured.

God, by now it can only mean she's damn in love with him, with everything she throws his way.

He thinks of that as he parks in front of her house. Today is doomed to suck, considering what happened so far. So, it's his job to cheer her up, being his usual goofy self, so she can get back to being herself, too – and Kensi Blye mocks him, teases him. They bicker and banter and that's what feels _right_.

He stays parked for a couple minutes, immediately spotting the two agents watching her place. Possibly the worst stake-out in the history of law enforcement (and here they are mocking him because he's _just_ a cop). He stays there, and thinks of what he's gonna say, or do.

Reaching over for the coffee cup holder he's got on his passenger seat, he notices the bill, and with a sly smile, he knows what's he gonna do as he looks for a pen in his glove compartment.

He knocks on her door, and comes in with an ease he never thought possible. She must be feeling really down, to fall for that. He's never seen her like that. It terrifies him, because he's used to having a tough, kick-ass partner. Kensi is a fighter, and between fight and flight, she never chooses to simply give up.

Never.

So, as she sits down on her couch, he takes the small paper from his pocket and clears his throat. It could be the worst move ever, but he chooses to believe it's gonna work. He reads his silly little note – oh, how he had hesitated and pondered every word, ready for big declarations of faith and love and everything defining their thing, before settling upon that simple five words sentence. She looks at him with a somewhat stunned expression, and then, blissfully then, a small smile tugs at those damn perfect lips.

_But you're laughing, so it obviously worked._

And, oh God, how he has missed that smile and that laugh today.

* * *

_Anybody else wondering what the world's deadliest New Kid on the Block fan is doing right about now?_

He was expecting everything but _this_.

Everything _but_ a phone call, with a breathy sound on the other end of the line. He recognizes crying when he hears it, for God's sakes. And, above all, he's spent enough time with Kensi to recognize _her_ breathing.

He knows what she sounds like when she's sighing – mostly because of something stupid he did or said; when she's exasperated, or bored, or tired. He knows her.

And, maybe that in his dreams, he's imagined her sighing for other reasons, all hot and bothered, writhing and damn whimpering as she would be lying underneath him. He knows that sound, now, too.

And, though he's never heard it before, he knows she's on the verge of crying, just like he knows it's her, the silent plea on the phone. He wishes he could find something to say – something that would actually help, make her stop crying, and start talking. Telling him where she is, so he can run there and find her and, damn, take care of her.

Right about now, he thinks that, wanted or not, he would just pull her into a hug and never, ever let go. Leave it to others to take care and clean the mess, so she can just walk away from it, and so he can try to make everything better.

He had never heard her sounding this _weak_. And quite frankly, even if it makes her just a bit more human, a bit less of Wonder Woman and that invincible goddess she thinks she is, he just _hates_ every second of it. He hates imagining the tears wanting to flood, threatening to roll down her cheeks, and Kensi, his strong, beautiful, amazing Kensi, trying her hardest to hold them back.

The thought only is just about killing him.

He should be there. With her.

He should have never let her go alone.

He should have fought harder, tried to restrain her, even. At least, long enough until Sam and Callen came and brought her back to OSP. He should have forced her to come back along with her mother, tried harder to convince her to let him protect them both.

God, he knows she hates that word, but right now, that's what he wants to do.

He wants to protect her from that damn fucking world.

She's strong and resilient and lethal and scary, but he thinks the walls are getting weaker by the minute. They're crumbling apart.

_She_ is crumbling apart, and he's not there to catch her.

* * *

She's all patched up now, gashes all over her body he assumes, even if she didn't let him see any of those before locking herself up in the ladies room, only to come out with the only visible one on her forehead.

He doesn't even need to try and touch it to know it must hurt. But she's putting up the brave act, trying to make it seem like today was just any other day. He's not stupid, and neither are the guys, and she knows it.

Callen and Sam prefer to let it go, though.

He guesses maybe he should, for once. Let her be.

Maybe he should. God knows he _won't_ – and Kensi does, too. He's the obnoxious, annoying, pestering guy. He can't let it go. He can't just go home and forget about the day, and wait for her to come to him; if she ever does, that said.

She's always on his mind.

_I'll settle for a beer every day for the rest of my life._

That's about how long he plans on spending with her. If he's lucky enough, if she wants to, if she lets him in, if she doesn't kill him once she realizes it's a mistake because he's so annoying she will wrap him in a body bag herself.

If he doesn't die tomorrow.

God, that's the scariest part about dying: not being with her anymore.

She comes to him, and apologizes. What for, he doesn't know, because he was the one not insisting enough. He's the one who let her down. Maybe she did scare him to death (like she does on a daily basis, anyway), but it's his job to be there.

And all of a sudden, he's not sure if he has any right over forcing his presence on her.

She smiles, and doesn't protest. God knows he could just kiss her right then and there just for that smile. In the end, he doesn't. He doesn't kiss her, or tell her he's spent the most terrible day of his life. He doesn't hug her.

He settles for just a beer for the rest of his life. That has to be enough, because, really, does he have the right to ask for more after letting her get hurt ?

* * *

He just doesn't know what to say or do to reach out to her, so she _really_ understands what she means to him.

How can she ask him to leave her alone, dealing with this mess by herself ? How can she really expect him to do so ? How can Kensi think that he's just gonna oblige her, when she just showed him how broken she is right now ?

She is. Never in hell would Kensi Blye ask for help, if she could deal with it on her own.

_I'm not talking about what they want, all right? Forget what they want. I'm talking about us, all right? I'm your partner. What makes you think that I'm gonna let you do this by yourself?_

It works. He sees it in her eyes, in the change of the expression on her features.

He should be ashamed of resorting to this, but, in the end, it always comes down to this – them, their _thing_.

It's them against the world. They're a team among the team, they're Kensi and Deeks, and in his book, that damn well means something. Everything.

She can't believe he's really gonna leave her alone.

God, she jumps, he jumps. Fucking movie.

What he wants right now is to help her – be there for her, there with her. The idea of her, fighting this all alone, her demons, her past, the sudden wave of scary, uncontrollable feelings coming back to the surface with her mother's reappearance… He can't. He can't imagine leaving her.

It's not fair to her, maybe, to make her story _theirs_. To say that it's a decision _they_ have to make, _together_. In the end, it is, to him. If she doesn't want to go to the boat shed, he won't force her. But, wherever she does, he will follow. She can't expect him not to. So, right now, though he's giving her a choice, he's also telling her that no matter what, he's involved.

He's _in_.

He's oh so in it should scare him, because now, his life was _hers_ to take. Whatever she wanted him to be, a friend, just a work partner, her partner in crime… She just had to say it. But, now she also knew that whatever she chose, he would always be there anyway. Because, it was all about them.

Even if she thought she was all alone, or _had_ to be.

* * *

He's woken up by soft knocks on the window. Blinking his lashes a couple times, he finally makes out a shape bent over the window of the passenger seat. He unlocks the door, and she climbs into the car slowly, one hand furtively flying to her side, where he supposes that her cracked rib must have been damaged further more.

"Hi there, sunshine," he croaks, his voice still husky from sleep. A quick look at his watch tells him he's been out for a little over an hour. "Haven't we met here before ?"

She laughs and winces almost immediately, and he mentally slaps himself for it. Another quiet moment passes before she speaks. "What are you doing here, Deeks ?"

He rubs a hand over his face, up until the bridge of his nose. "I don't know. I swear I was driving home, Kens, and then…I guess I just ended up here."

He gives her a sheepish look, and Kensi bites on her lip, eyes locking with his. It's just about the cutest thing he's ever seen her doing, with that face and smile she was wearing earlier in the bullpen. And, he loves this adorable Kensi.

"You – do you want coffee or something ? You're too old to take cat naps in your car."

"That means you're inviting me in ?" he teases, though, behind the playful tone lies something deeper.

Kensi looks down on her lap. "Well, isn't this where this is going, anyway ? You didn't come here to stay in your car, watching my house like some creepy dude, right ? Wasn't it your little evil plan, getting in ?"

Her voice is just barely above a whisper, and there's no trace of humor there. She tries to make it come out as a joke, but her voice is just shaky, and weak. They both know it.

He puts an end to the agony – their agony. "Do you _want_ me to come in ?"

She hesitates for a couple minutes. She wants him to be there – has wanted him all day. She needs him, even. But, is she ready to say it ? She finally looks up, meeting tired, gorgeous blue eyes staring back at her, this tenderness, this care so obvious, she can't quite handle it.

She's gonna cry.

She turns her face again, staring outside. "It hurts," she lets out in a breath. "Breathing hurts," she adds, though he had understood. Her breathing gets heavier, and threatens to tear her chest to pieces, the sobs she's trying hard to hold back weighing on her heart so, so much she wants to die.

"I could come in, and take a look. If you want, of course. I could run to the pharmacy and get you some pills. And then…"

"And then what ?" Kensi asks. Eyes wide open, teeth digging in her lip.

"Then maybe I should go home. Let you get some rest," he says, every word forced out. "Except if you want me to stay the night…"

She sighs. And, it's a sound he didn't know so far. She's not exhausted, or annoyed. She's just _pensive_. Pondering on what to say, what to do. Let him in, or fence him out. Give into what she wants and needs, or do what she should.

In the end, she's too tired and injured and lonely to fight. She's done fighting, anyway. She's fought too much, today.

"Maybe you could come in," she finally replies, trying hard not to break down. "And then, we'll see what happens next. If you wanna stay, or… I have beers in the fridge. Maybe we could start with that."

He smiles. She smiles, too. "We'll see what happens next," he repeats, the words echoing in the car, and in the space between them. Dawning on them. But, for the first time today, he knows that whatever happens next, well…

It can only get better from now on, right ?

He takes a beer, and she takes pills. She lets him lift her shirt to check the bruise, and lets his fingers venture up to her shoulder where he gasps at the nasty gash Clairmont did to her. She doesn't even flinch when he gently touches the cut on her forehead, and when his lips drop a little, light kiss on her bruised skin.

She shrugs, sighs and rolls her eyes, and pulls him by the sleeve over to her room when he tries to lie down on her couch.


End file.
